It's All To Make a Friendship
by dyslexic-Carmie
Summary: Belgium gets an insane plan to separate the distance between Netherlands and Spain. Poor Romano. It's a shame that this friendship takes a fake relationship to happen. Well, maybe it doesn't have to be fake.
1. The Plan

Romano scrolled through Spain's contacts. "Are you sure that you have Netherlands number in here?"

"It's in there," Spain confirmed. "Try looking in the N's."

"That's the first place I checked," the Italian spat.

The Spaniard laughed. "Oh, then try looking in the H's for Holland."

Romano scrolled up on the contact list. "I don't think you have it," he said frowning.

Spain sighed and held out his hand. "Let me look."

"I don't think you'll be able to find it." The Italian handed him back his phone.

The Spaniard took a few seconds to scroll through his phone. "Found it! I for some reason I accidentally stuck a Q to the front of his name, making it QNetherlands."

"Whatever," Romano said rolling his eyes.

Spain selected the contact and hit the green send button. "Alright it's ringing," he said as he handed his phone back to Romano.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" the Italian asked now holding the phone.

"You need to ask Netherlands if he will return my-"

Romano cut him off. "Why can't you ask him to return your dollhouse, basket, frying pan, or whatever the hell you let him borrow from you?"

Spain sighed. "I don't think he wants to talk to me."

"Bastard." Romano held out the phone back for Spain to take back.

The Spaniard didn't take the phone. "You do it. We really need that basket back, if we want to have a successful-"

The Italian cut him holding the phone out closer to the Spaniard. "I don't want to talk to that guy, either."

"But, we need that basket back!" Spain protested pushing the phone away from him.

"You do it!" Romano pushed the phone back towards Spain.

"No, that will just cause problems," the Spaniard complained pushing a ringing phone back to the Italian. "We just need that basket back!"

"You talk that guy if you want it back so badly," Romano opposed pushing the phone back towards Spain.

"Please, Romano, just ask Netherlands nicely to return my basket," Spain said sighing holding out the phone that was just shoved into his hand. "I really don't think he wants to talk to me."

"No," the Italian grumbled. "You're big enough to deal with your own problems."

Spain put the ringing phone to his ear. "He hasn't picked up, yet."

"Maybe he won't."

Spain sighed and moved the phone away from his ear. "Please, just take it," he said holding the phone out again.

"No, handle this problem yourself."

"Please, he might not pick up. Will you please just leave a message for me?"

"No, and stop saying please," the Italian said irritated.

The Spaniard sighed. "Please." He held out the phone again.

"Ugh!" Romano took the phone. "I better get a good percent of tomatoes out of this!"

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>Netherlands sighed. "Belgium, Spain's calling me."<p>

"What does he want?" Belgium asked looking up from her book.

"I don't know," the Dutch man said. "And I really don't want to talk to him."

The Belgian sighed, and set her book down on a coffee table. "Want me to talk to him for you?"

"I was just going to not answer."

Belgium held out her hand for the phone. "I'll talk to him."

"You don't have to," Netherlands said handing her the phone anyway. "He probably just wants to waste my time."

Belgium took the phone. "We'll see." She put hit the answer button and put the phone to her ear.

A very distinct voice came through the phone. "Look, bastard, you need to give Spain back-"

Belgium cut him off. "Is this Romano?"

"Belgium?" The owner of the voice was probably blushing.

She laughed. "That's me!"

"Uh... sorry wrong number," he said to quickly making it sound more like sorrywrongnumber.

"Don't hang up," Belgium said laughing. "You're wanted to talk to Netherlands, right?"

"Spain does." Romano's voice sounded nervous.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... he wants to ask him to return his stupid basket or something."

"You two can come pick it up with you come over for dinner," she stated as a plan came into her head.

Netherlands looked up when he heard the word dinner. "Your not inviting Spain over, are you?"

The Belgian ignored the Dutch man. "Romano? Are you still there? Are you guys coming over for dinner?"

"Yeah... we'll come." If Belgium could see Romano she would see that he was turning as red as a tomato.

"Great! See you and Spain around six!" She hung up before Romano had the chance to protest.

* * *

><p>"Romano, will you please join me in the kitchen?"<p>

Romano blushed. He had only been at the house for two minutes, and Belgium was already asking him to join her in the kitchen. "Sure," he said nervously.

"Great!" She smiled. "Netherlands you play nice with Spain."

"So, how have you been?" Spain asked Netherlands once Romano left the room with Belgium.

The Dutch man ignored him, and flipped to the next page of his book.

"Oh, okay, I guess that you're not talking to me," the Spaniard said sighing. "I guess I'll just sit down and wait for dinner to be ready." He sat down.

Netherlands got up from his chair and moved to a seat farther from Spain.

Spain frowned. "Okay, yeah that chair is probably more comfortable or something."

"Please stop talking to me," the Dutch man said looking up from his book.

"Oh, sorry." The Spaniard leaned back in his chair. "Hey, do you know what we're having for dinner?"

Netherlands glared at Spain. "No." He went back to his book.

"That's cool. I'm sure it'll be good, whatever it is."

"Stop trying to make conversation," the Dutch man spat looking up from his reading martial.

"Sorry." The Spaniard gave an awkward laugh. "Hey, what are you reading?"

Netherlands lifted up his book for Spain to see the cover.

"Oh, Steven King's _It_," Spain said reading the cover. "I haven't read that one. Is it any good?"

The Dutch man lowered his book. "It's kind of hard to tell that when somebody is talking."

The Spaniard laughed. "I hate it when people don't realize that you're reading a book."

"Yeah," Netherlands said in a firm voice, not looking up from his book.

"So, what's your book about?" Spain asked curious. "I might want to borrow it from you."

"A clown that comes out of the sewer and kills children."

"That's horrible!" the Spaniard gasped. "I don't think I want to read a book about that."

"Good," the Dutch man mumbled flipping to the next page of his book.

"So, what was the last book you read? You know, the book you read before you started reading this book about a demon clown eating children?"

Netherlands sighed and ignored Spain. Why didn't the Spaniard realize that he didn't want to talk to him? He clearly had a book in front of him. That's the universal indication for "I'm reading. Don't try to talk to me".

"The last book I read was _The Thorn Birds,_ by Colleen McCullough," Spain stated after Netherlands didn't say anything. "It was really good. The author is from Australia. Isn't that wild?"

* * *

><p>"Why do things have to be so awkward?" Belgium asked as she took a bowl of fruit out of the refrigerator.<p>

"I'm not getting you," Romano said looking through the cabinets. "Where are the plates kept?"

"The next cupboard," the Belgian answered setting the container of fruit on the tabletop. "Why do they have to be so distant with each other?"

The Italian took the plates out of the cabinet he was directed to. "Who?"

"Spain and Netherlands," Belgium responded sighing. "Why can't they just talk to each other like normal people?"

"I don't know." Romano set the plates on the table. "Hey, are we going to need bowls?"

"We're just having waffles and fruit," the Belgian confirmed. "You know we should really do something about their relationship."

"We?" The Italian blushed.

Belgium laughed. "I came up with a plan earlier, but I'm going to need your help."

"My help?" Romano turned a darker shade of red. "Forget it!"

"Please?" She made the same face she made when he was a little kid wanting a kiss. "My plan won't fail."

He really couldn't resist that face. He's thought about it from time to time, and now he was seeing it again. "Fine, but the second it starts to fail I'm out!"

Belgium laughed. "It won't fail."

"If it does I'm out," Romano repeated. "What is this plan, anyway?"

The Belgian grinned. "Just play along with everything I say."

* * *

><p>"And that's why I don't bother watching Disney sequels," Spain said, finishing a story he was telling to a very annoyed Netherlands.<p>

"Dinner's ready!" Belgium's voice called from the dinning room. "Come to the dinning room!"

Netherlands set his book down on a coffee table. "Yay."

"I wonder what we're eating," Spain said standing up from his seat on the couch. "I'm sure it'll be good, whatever it is."

"Yeah." The Dutch man stood up and left for the kitchen.

"Oh, we aren't going to walk together," the Spaniard said frowning. "That's cool."

"Belgium, pass me the sugar." The sugar was actually closer to Spain, but Netherlands wasn't going to ask him to do anything.

The Belgian sighed, but handed him the sugar anyway. "So, Romano and I have a big announcement-"

Romano looked up from his waffle. "We do?"

"Yes, we do sweetheart," she confirmed giving him a stare.

The way she said "sweetheart" made Romano blush.

Belgium smiled. "This is our one week anniversary," she continued. "Isn't that great?"

"Congratulations!" the Spaniard said as the Italian's face turned a darker shade of red.

"One week anniversary of what?" Netherlands asked, clearly mad and not paying attention to the mountain of sugar he was dumping onto his waffles.

"Dating." She grabbed Romano's hand and held it with hers. "We made it through seven days, and we're still happy to be together!"

"I'm so happy for you guys," Spain said as Romano's hand began to sweat out of nervousness. "Romano never said anything about you guys dating. I could have given him advice."

Belgium laughed and gave Romano's hand a light squeeze. "He could have used some of that advice."

"Why didn't you tell me that you were dating Mini Spain?" the Dutch man asked, still not aware that he was adding too much sugar onto his waffle. The waffle wasn't visible anymore.

"I did," she answered smiling. "You were just too busy reading _It _to listen."

"How did you guys start dating?" the Spaniard asked curious, before Netherlands could say anything else.

"I'll let Romano tell the story." She gave his hand another squeeze.

The Italian just stayed silent. He was turning the color of stop sign, and he was too embarrassed to act like himself. If he were being himself, he would have snapped the second Netherlands called him "Mini Spain".

"Darling, you need to tell them how you asked me out," Belgium said turning to Romano. "You tell it so much better than I do."

"Uh..." The Italian really wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "Well... one time I was at a bar... and Belgium was at the same bar... and we drank... and yeah."

The Dutch man raised an eyebrow. "How badly do you tell the story?" he asked the Belgian.

She just laughed and moved her chair closer to Romano. "Come on, honey, tell them the real story."

"It's embarrassing," Romano protested. He really didn't know what he was supposed to say. It really wasn't fair that Belgium was doing this to him. And why was she sitting so close to him?

"I want to hear this story." Netherlands's voice sounded more like it was giving an order.

"Me too!" Spain added.

Romano blushed. How much redder could his face get? "Well, uh, do you guys remember that rainy day I flipped my car in the ditch?"

"You drive too fast," Netherlands stated finally setting the now empty sugar bowl aside.

"After I flipped my car I called my brother, and he was out of the country visiting the potato bastard. So, that idiot couldn't help me. Then I called Spain, and he didn't pick up-"

The Spaniard cut him off. "I'm sorry Romano! I misplaced my phone that day."

The Italian ignored him. "Anyway, finally I called Belgium. She came to help me, and I don't know. I guess she just looked really cute in the rain."

"What about the bar you mentioned earlier?" the Dutch man asked frowning.

"He bought me drink after I helped him," the Belgian answered. This was a lie. After she helped with getting his car out of the ditch, they both just awkwardly left each other.

"Okay?" Netherlands raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem to buy it.

"Well, I think it's wonderful!" Spain exclaimed. "I'm so glad Romano is expressing his more romantic side."

"Oh, since Romano's car is getting repaired you're going to need to drive him to our dates," she told Spain.

"I have more than one-" Belgium cut Romano off by stepping on his foot. "Ouch!"

"So, Spain, do you think you'll be able to drive my honeybun to our date tomorrow?"

"I'll love to," Spain said happily. "I could give him dating advice along the way!"

Before Romano could say anything, or scream anything, to protest, Belgium turned to Netherlands. "Oh, Netherlands, my car is also destroyed. Will you drive me to our date tomorrow?"

Netherlands frowned. "What's wrong with your car?"

Belgium smiled remembering the fun she had with those hedge clippers. "It just refuses to start."

Netherlands frowned. "I'll look at your car tomorrow. If it's too bad, I'll call Germany."

"You'll drive me to my date right?" she asked. "Romano promised to take me down Amsterdam's Red Light District."

Netherlands thought for a second. He wanted to go there too. "Sure."

She smiled. "And before we do that, Romano promised to take me flamenco dancing."

"Can I watch?" Spain asked. "I would love to see Romano doing the flamenco."

The Belgian laughed. This was almost too easy. "That would be fun! If he messes up you can show him how it's done."

"I'll come to," the Dutch man said before the Italian could scream something, or punch something, in protest. "Just to make sure Spain and Mini Spain don't try anything to funny."

* * *

><p>"You're a good dancer, right?" Belgium asked holding Romano's hands as they stood together in the doorway.<p>

"I... uh..." Romano felt uncomfortable. "I haven't danced in a few years."

She leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. "Unless you want Spain to humiliate you, you should practice," she whispered as she moved her face away.

"Okay," he said dazed.

She smiled. "Good."

"Romano!" Spain called from the car. "Its time to go!"

On his way to the car, Romano couldn't help but put his hand to his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Well, I'm impatient. I was going to post this after Lent. 'Cause I'm giving up the Internet for Lent. (Yeah, I know the impossible) But, I really wanted to post something before Lent. I'll finish this during Lent. **

**What do you guys think so far? **


	2. Night Before The Second Date

Romano was spending his ride home staring at the out the passenger side window. His face presented this new expression between wonder and pleasure. It was a look Spain had never seen on him before, and this look was probably instigated from that kiss he had in the doorway.

The Spaniard laughed, as he made the left turn next to the purple mailbox surrounded by orange tulips. His laugh didn't do anything to change the Italian's demeanor. This was highly unusual in the passenger's normal behavior. Normally his friend would mumble something that contained the word "bastard" about Spain's overly cheerful personality.

"Did you just have your first kiss, amigo?" Spain asked smiling at Romano.

The only change in his passenger's expression was a shade of red appearing in his cheeks. "Excuse me?" the Italian asked turning to face his driver. His voice sounded unsure to whether he should be angry.

Spain smiled turning back to face the road. "I noticed that you put your hand to your lips," he stated. "That's something-"

The Italian angrily cut him off. "That wasn't my first kiss!"

The Spaniard laughed. Now his friend was back to his normal demeanor. "Yeah, I remember Veneziano accidently put a mistletoe over your head last Christmas." Spain smiled and let the memories of how many problems those mistletoes had caused, Lithuania with Seychelles, Taiwan with Greece, Switzerland with Austria, and Prussia with England, were just some of the ridiculous kisses those mistletoes caused. It made Spain wonder why they always obeyed the mistletoe. "That was your first kiss with Belgium, right?" he asked letting the thoughts of last Christmas party fall back into his head to be thought of at another random time.

Romano turned red, or redder since he was already pretty red. "No," he lied.

"Well, that one she gave you on in the doorway certainty made you act like a..." Spain paused to think. What's a good word for it? Virgin didn't really make sense. "...lip virgin."

"I'm not a lip virgin!" the Italian exclaimed. "What the hell is a lip virgin?"

The Spaniard shrugged, passing the last tulip field on the drive home. "It's a expression, I just made up, for somebody that's never been kissed."

"I've been kissed before!"

"Just recently." Spain chuckled. "Before she kissed you your only kiss was your brother."

Romano angrily turned back to looking out the window. "Are you purposely taking the long route?"

"This is the same route we drove on earlier," the Spaniard answered. "So, tell me about your first kiss with Belgium."

"None of that is your business," the Italian spat.

"Yes it is," Spain insisted wanting to know details about what really was there first kiss. "I'm your chauffeur and advisor."

"Like I need advice from you."

"Do you tell her that she's beautiful?" the Spaniard asked. "And do you open doors for her, and hold her hand?" he pressed. "Those are important things to do in a relationship."

Romano didn't answer any of those questions. The Italian just continued looking out the passenger window angrily. After a few more questions, Romano would consider stupid and annoying, Spain began giving his romantic advice. This was even more obnoxious.

"Always, remember to shower before a date." Was one of the many stupid advice statements the Spaniard told the Italian. "Nobody wants their date to smell bad."

"Never tell your date that she is wearing too much makeup." Was another thing Spain advised that didn't get a comment from Romano. "Even if your date is a guy, don't ever say that. For some reason that really makes people feel self-conscious."

"Also never complain that your date took too long to get ready." Like the other advise comments this one didn't get a remark from the Italian. "If she takes awhile it means that she really likes you, and wants to look her best for you."

"Make sure to use good table manners." Still no response from Romano. Spain was pretty much talking to a brick wall. "Don't put your elbows on the table, and chew with your mouth closed."

"Never bring up old ex's." The Spaniard laughed when he said this one. "So, don't mention that kiss you had with your brother."

Surprisingly, the Italian didn't say anything to that comment. He just kept angrily glaring out the passenger window.

"And, girls really like flowers," Spain continued oblivious to his passenger's annoyed demeanor.

The ride continued like this for the rest of the way home. Romano didn't say anything, and spent the whole trip angrily looking out the passenger window.

* * *

><p>Belgium was washing the dinner dishes in the sink. Her mind kept replaying the events of her goodbye with Romano. Why did the idiot have to put his hand to his lips?<p>

She wanted him to perform well. Netherlands was watching their goodbye from inside, while Spain was watching their goodbye from the car. With both her brothers witnessing she wanted him to put on a believable show. Well, his putting his hand to his lips was believable, but it wasn't the performance she wanted.

Why did the idiot have to put his hand to his lips? Didn't he know that both her brothers would be watching? Why did he have to put his hand to his lips? It made him look like some sort of never been kissed person. And that just ruined the story she wanted to tell.

She wanted to extend the story of how they starting going out, and add a little fluff to it. Something to make Romano appear more romantic and actually dateable. She pictured telling the story over coffee with Romano saying something like, "And darling you think I tell the story better?" when she was done telling the tale. But, the idiot had to ruin it by making their goodbye scene look like their first kiss. Why did he have to put his hands to his lips? Its not like he hadn't been kissed before.

Wait, had the idiot been kissed before?

No, that's a stupid thought. He had an unfortunate lip encounter with his brother last Christmas party. Along with lots of other guest at the party. Did Hungary still have the photos?

"Ugh," she mumbled to herself. Wondering if Hungary still had the photos was a stupid waste of thinking. Those lip encounters were disturbing, and she really didn't want to refresh her memory by looking at pictures.

Finally, Belgium was able to get her thoughts back to the more important manner at hand. Romano probably, like most male countries, used one of his citizens to satisfy his curiosity. She wasn't the first female he kissed. He probably kissed, and possibly did other things, with one or ten or twenty of his citizens.

"Oh... bollocks," she sighed to herself setting the dish she just washed aside. She really didn't like thinking of countries using their citizens to fulfill their curiosity. It never seemed right to her.

So if the idiot already quenched his need to understand love, why did he put his hand to his lips?

Maybe he was just a better actor than she thought he could be. A first kiss after going out for one week was plausible. And it also was very plausible for somebody to put their hands to their lips after a first kiss with somebody they loved. Romano was just a great actor. He's just a great actor who's really getting into the role. He doesn't have feelings for her. She's not a terrible person that's playing his heartstrings for her own benefit. Right?

All these thoughts made Belgium drop the bowl she was holding. "Merde," she cursed in French stepping away from the broken glass.

Netherlands had heard the crash from the living room. "Belgium, are you all right?" he asked emerging inside the kitchen. "I heard something fall."

"I'm fine," she lied. She wasn't close to being fine. She just might be a horrible person that's playing with the emotions of an idiot for her own profit.

The Dutchman raised an eyebrow as he looking at the broken pieces of glass on the ground. "Need a broom?"

The Belgian laughed. "That would be nice." Her voice didn't contain any of the worry she was feeling. "I guess my hands just had too much soap on the them."

"Be more careful," Netherlands stated retrieving a broom from the supply closet.

"Of course." She returned to her dishwashing leaving her brother in charge of sweeping up the broken pieces of glass off the floor.

Maybe she should have gone with one of her other plans to make her brothers friends. The plan were she gets kidnapped could have worked. That plan involved her brothers both receiving a ransom note that demanded they come together to save her. She even went as far as planning a route to the North Pole, the place she planned to hang out at until her brothers came together to recuse her. But she stopped herself from using it when Romano called about that stupid tomato basket.

Why did that simple phone call spark this new plan? And why did she decide to follow it? Kidnapping herself wouldn't have made her seem like a horrible person. Why did she go with the plan that made her be a terrible person?

"Ugh," she mumbled to herself turning off the water.

Her brother looked up from his sweeping. "Something bothering you?"

"No everything is fine," she lied. After lying to her brother she lied to herself. She wasn't a horrible person that stole a first kiss for her own benefit. The idiot was just a really good actor, and everything was going to be fine. This master plan was going to make her brothers come together in a friendship, and nobody's feelings were going to be hurt.

* * *

><p>When Netherlands finished sweeping up his sister's mess he returned to the living room. He picked up his book and sighed. The bookmark had fallen out leaving the book unmarked to where he had left off.<p>

The Dutchman groaned and flipped through the pages of his book. Where did he last leave off? Didn't he read something about the fat kid telling his friends how he got in shape? Yeah, he was somewhere around that part. But, what page and chapter was that part in?

He flipped through the pages some more trying to find some paragraph that sounded familiar, but his mind was too crowded with other thoughts to really focus. How and why did his sister start dating the less important Italian?

His sister dating mini Spain just didn't seem plausible. Neither did their story on how they started dating. Romano was acting like some sort of nervous idiot, while Belgium was remaining her cheerful self. Their different expressions just didn't go together.

Maybe this was just their first time announcing their relationship. Maybe their dating status hadn't been made public till Belgium announced it at dinner. That could be plausible, considering the fact that they just had their fist kiss in the doorway.

But, than again Belgium did say something about telling him about her new boyfriend earlier. Why couldn't he remember her telling him this? He doesn't get that absorbed in reading that he completely forgets the world around him.

Never mind that. Either Belgium never told him anything, or he really was just so distracted by reading to listen. Either way, this relationship was just going way to slow to actually become something more serious and intimate.

Netherlands frowned. He really didn't want to think about his sister getting cozy with the miniature version of Spain. That was just disgusting. Hopefully, they will break up before anything along those lines happen.

Finally the Dutchman found the page he left off on. He began reading the paragraph he abandoned earlier to eat dinner.

Netherlands didn't have anything to be worried about. This relationship probably will last for another week, maybe a year if things moved a little faster. He wasn't worried; his sister was going to break up with mini Spain before anything too serious happened. This relationship would be like jogging everyday, waking up thirty minutes earlier in the morning, and not eating meat. It would just be something Belgium would try for a little over a week, and then give up.

* * *

><p>As soon as Romano got back home he locked himself in his room. He about had had it with Spain's stupid romantic advice. Seriously, some of that advice was just stupid.<p>

"_Check your breath after you eat," _Spain's voice repeated in his head. Really? Romano was just going to shove a bunch of garlic down his throat, and force Belgium to listen to him recite the dictionary three centimeters away from his mouth.

"_Feebleness is sexy. Don't be afraid to expression yourself through tears and emotion." _Was another statement the Spaniard's voice repeated in his head.

Ugh, why did Spain have to give him so much stupid advice? So, what if he's now dating Belgium. The Spaniard didn't have to get so gleeful about it. People have social interactions and date each other. Its normal. Why is Spain acting like he just found the cure to cancer? Its not like he was completely updatable.

The Italian groaned and stared at his bedroom ceiling. So, his crush since childhood finally decided to date him. But it was only because she wanted two jerks to start playing nice with each other. Maybe he really was updateable.

Romano rolled over, and then picked up his phone from the nightstand. He really needed to sort things out with that temptress. His fingers found her name in his contacts and pressed send before he could stop himself from calling her.

The phone only rang twice. The Italian didn't stop the call, because he was so dazed that he actually hit the send button.

"Hi, Pumpkin!" her cheerful voice said through the phone. "I got you on speaker. Netherlands is sitting right next to me," she said pleasantly making a cautionary known.

"Sup," the Dutchman's voice said through the phone confirming that her warning was legit.

"Did you call to tell me goodnight?" she asked not losing any of the cheeriness in her voice.

The Italian was glad that the Belgian couldn't see him blush. He had called to get an explanation, but he always wanted to tell her a romantic goodnight. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she repeated making him blush brighter. It's a good thing this wasn't FaceTime.

"He just called to tell you two words?" Netherlands' voice asked annoyed.

He hung up before he could hear the Dutchman say anything else. This whole conversation didn't answer any of his questions.

He set his phone back on the nightstand, and then grabbed some nightclothes from his closet to get ready for bed. Hopefully sleep would help clear his mind.


	3. Morning Before The Second Date

"You're up early," Belgium said surprised to find her brother already in the kitchen for breakfast. "And showered and dressed. That's impressive for you," she added looking her brother over.

"I actually woke up this morning," Netherlands stated opening the refrigerator to retrieve the orange juice. "Want a glass?"

The Belgian opened one of the cabinets, and took out two glasses. "Sure," she answered handing her brother the glasses.

The Dutchman set the glasses he was handed on the kitchen counter. "I looked at your car this morning," he said pouring the juice.

"Already?" Belgium asked raising her eyebrows from surprise. "Wow, you must have gotten up early. You've even cleaned yourself up after the inspection."

"Yeah," Netherlands answered handing Belgium her glass of orange juice. "It looked pretty awful under the hood. Like something used hedge clippers to cut everything important out."

"Oh?" The Belgian's voice didn't contain any of the worry she was feeling. "Why hedge clippers? If it was a animal, it would have used it teeth or claws."

The Dutchman placed the orange juice back inside the fridge. "It was probably a human."

"A human?" Belgium let her voice sound slightly surprised. "Why would somebody do something like that?"

"Who knows?" Netherlands shrugged. "Did you piss anybody off recently?"

"I don't think so."

"I wonder how your car got vandalized." The Dutchman took a sip of his orange juice. "Its been in the garage for the past few days, right?" he stated setting his glass down on the counter.

"Of course. Do you think somebody broke in?" the Belgian asked sounding worried, but not for the reason her brother thought.

"Anything's possible." Netherlands shrugged and picked back up his glass of orange juice. "I don't put security cameras in the garage so it's hard to say."

"I don't understand, why somebody would want to destroy my car."

"Maybe you did piss somebody off." The Dutchman paused took another swallow of his drink. "Could it be possible that your dating of mini Spain is making big Spain jealous?"

Belgium hadn't considered her brother making this conclusion. "Oh dear goodness, of course not. Spain is my brother. He's doesn't have romantic interest in me. He wouldn't be jealous of Romano."

Netherlands frowned. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of Spain being jealous of you, because you took his boy-toy away from him."

"What?" The Belgian really should have considered this theory before she destroyed her own vehicle. "Don't tell me that you believed that untrue rumor too."

"They do hang out a lot with each other."

"I hang out with you a lot, and you don't have romantic interest in me," Belgium stated. "This is like the third time I came over to your house this month."

"Fourth actually." Netherlands sighed. "You still should watch out for Spain."

"Spain doesn't have a thing for Romano," the Belgian corrected. "He pretty much raised Romano. And they just both have a thing for tomatoes."

"Right." The Dutchman didn't sound like he bought it.

"Besides," Belgium added, "Spain found out about me dating Romano the same time you did, and that was after my car was vandalized."

"Sure." Netherlands was obviously thinking that Spain somehow knew about their dating ahead of time, and angrily disapproved, and decided to torment Belgium by destroying her car with hedge clippers. "I'll call Germany and let him look at it. Maybe your car can still be fixed."

"Yay, new car!" The Belgian laughed jokingly.

"Maybe your honeybun will buy you your next car."

Belgium smiled and took a sip of her orange juice. "That would certainly make him the best boyfriend ever."

* * *

><p>Romano was still asleep, and Spain really needed somebody to talk too. His little underling finally dating somebody was really something to chat about. The Spaniard really wanted the Italian to give him details on everything.<p>

He could wake Romano up, but that won't be very nice. The Italian really isn't a morning person. He says more profanities in the morning, than he would say if he was injured severely.

The Spaniard sighed and took out his phone. If you couldn't get details from the person, then the next best thing would be to gossip about the person with one of your best friends.

"Hola," Spain cheerfully said after the phone rang twice.

On the other end, a just-woken-up Frenchman groaned. "Why are you calling me at such a ungodly hour?"

"It's only six-thirty, amigo." The Spaniard laughed.

"My beauty sleep doesn't come to a end till eight-thirty!" France exclaimed. "Your taking away two hours of my precious sleep!"

"I just want somebody to talk to," Spain explained justified his reason for ruining his friend's sleep. "Romano's still asleep, and it would be rude to wake him up."

"Oh, and its not rude to wake me up?"

The Spaniard laughed and ignored the question. "My little underling is going out with Belgium!"

"Which underling?"

"Romano!"

"Romano?" France repeated. "As in South Italy? Did I hear you correctly?"

"You most definitely did," Spain cheerfully confirmed. "Yesterday they announced their one week anniversary. Isn't that something? It's been a week, and they're still so happy to be together."

"I didn't know Italy's brother was dateable." On the other end of the phone the Frenchman sighed. "I wish I was the one to figure that out," he mumbled.

The Spaniard didn't hear what the Frenchman mumbled. "Me either!" he exclaimed. "Until they announced their one week anniversary, I thought Italy inherited all the lover genes. I guess Belgium brought a new romantic side out of him."

"I wish I brought that new side out of him," France mumbled. "Well, Belgium is a belle fille."

"I'm so happy for both of them. With Romano receiving my advice he won't screw this up."

"That would be like writing the poor boy a death sentence." The Frenchman laughed. "He won't screw this up if I'm the one giving the advice."

The Spaniard chuckled. "Why don't you just tell him to get naked and roll in sandpaper? That advice would be better than whatever you want to tell him."

"I might tell him to get naked. A little expression never destroyed a relationship," France confirmed, "but I won't tell him to roll in sandpaper. Only you would think of telling him to do something like that."

"No, you would."

"You're the one that said it first."

"I probably just restated something you said before."

"You must have been drunk when you heard that-"

Spain cut France off. "No, you must have been drunk when you said that."

"That must have been a interesting party," the Frenchman said jokingly. "How did our little Romano win Belgium over, anyway?"

"He said that she helped her get his car out of the ditch, and that she just looked cute in the rain-"

France cut the story off. "Oui, he won her over like a Frenchman. Grabbing her in the rain and forcing her lips to his." He paused pleased with himself. "I should give little Romano a call and congratulate him."

The Spaniard laughed. "Good luck talking to him in the morning."

* * *

><p>Romano's stupid phone interrupted his pleasant dreams. He rolled over on his bed and picked up his phone.<p>

"Félicitations!" exclaimed an overly cheery French accent.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, bastard?" The Italian's voice would have sounded angrier if he didn't just wake up.

"I hear that you're dating Belgium," France said ignoring the question. "I'm so glad that you have a romantic side. Next time you see her, grab her by the shoulders and-"

Romano cut him off by hanging up. As soon as he was awake enough to leave his bed he'll have to give Spain a piece of his mind. He's an Italian. He doesn't need love advice from a Spaniard or a Frenchman.

* * *

><p>Germany had just finished his morning jog when his phone with off. He sighed and took it out of his pocket. Hopefully, Prussia wasn't calling because he lost the television remote in the couch again.<p>

The German sighed when he read the name form the caller id. Well, at least East didn't lose the remote again. "Hello?"

"Hi, Germany, I was wondering if you could come by my house and look at my sister's car," Netherlands said on the other end of the phone.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Somebody vandalized it by cutting everything under the hood with hedge clippers."

Germany frowned. "Hedge clippers?"

"That's what it looked like," the Dutchman replied. "I just want to know if she needs a new car or not."

"That'll depend on how bad it is." The German took out a day planner. "What time do you want me to come look at it?"

"Whatever time is good with you," Netherlands answered. "I'll have to drive Belgium for her date with Romano around six pm or so."

Germany blinked. He would ask about the Italian getting a date, but that's not any of his business. "Four good with you?"

"Sure." The Dutchman paused. "Hey, do you know anything about security cameras?"

Before the German could answer his phone made a noise indicating that he had another call. "Sorry, but I have another call."

"Bye." Netherlands hung up.

Germany groaned when he realized who was interrupting his call. "What is it this time?"

"West, you lost the remote again!" Prussia exclaimed on the other end of the phone. "This is really unawesome, because the TV is stuck on a Bring It On marathon."

"Did you look in the couch yet?"

Prussia laughed loudly through the phone. "Never mind, I found it. It was the pokey thing that was jabbing into my side."

"When you're done watching television-"

"Set the remote on top of the TV, so you will be able to find it without calling me," Prussia said reciting what West tells him each time.

"I'm glad you remember." The German sighed. "I won't be home till after four. Can you get dinner ready?"

"Where are you going?"

"Netherland's house. He wants me to look at Belgium's car, apparently it got vandalized with hedge clippers."

"I don't want to make dinner," Prussia complained. "Can't you make dinner before looking at her car?"

"No, because we have a set time for dinner-"

"And a set time for bathing, and a set time sleeping, and a set time for shitting." Prussia groaned. "Can't you tell Netherlands that you won't look at the car tell after the set time for dinner?'

"No, because he won't be at his house then."

"Where is that loser going?"

Germany sighed. "He has to drive Belgium to her date with Romano-"

"Romano's dating Belgium! How the hell is that possible? That idiot isn't dateable at all."

"I don't know, and that isn't our business-"

"Whatever, I'm going to give little Romano a call."

Prussia hung up before Germany could say anything else.

* * *

><p>Romano yawned as he entered the kitchen. Before he could open the fridge, and get some food his phone went off. If this was France again he'll throw his phone into the kitchen blender and hit puree. Seriously, that Frenchman needs to get a life and stop calling him.<p>

Well, on the bright side caller id says that France isn't calling him. "Hello?" the Italian said answering his phone.

"Hey, I heard you're dating Belgium."

"Did Spain call you too?" Great, another one of Spain's friends calling him to give him romantic advice. Like the Spaniard and the Frenchman giving his advice wasn't annoying enough.

"West actually told me," Prussia answered.

"Ugh." The Italian wasn't sure what he should say to that. Unable to think of anything he hung up.

So, the news of him dating that temptress was really spreading that fast. How the hell did the potato bastard learn about this?

Whatever, that's way too much to think about in the morning. Romano sighed opened the fridge. Before he could mumble something along the lines of, "Bastard drank all the freaking milk again", his phone went off again.

The Italian groaned, closed the fridge, and then put his ringing phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, tomato dude!" Great, America. "I heard from Canada that you were dating the waffle chick. Is it true?"

Romano sighed unsure of how Belgium would want him answering. "For one week so far."

"Awesome. Anyway, man my boss just wants to make sure that you guys don't have some secret alliance or something evil planned. Y'know like threatening to nuke the good U-S-of A, " the American stated over the phone. "Y'all guys don't, right? This relationship isn't like a cover story for plans to nuke me, right?"

"Ugh..." The Italian scratched his head. That's too much to comprehend in the morning. "No. We don't have any plans to bomb you."

"Cool, that's what I thought. Italians are way too innocent to nuke somebody." America laughed. "Well, if you ever want to double-date give me a call." He hung up before Romano could ask what he meant by double-dating.

* * *

><p>Romano had just finished his breakfast, and was about to go take a shower, when his phone went off again.<p>

"Bonjour!" Great, greasy French-fries again. "I'm just calling to make sure that you remember the love-"

The Italian hung before the Frenchman could finish his sentence. He was about to throw his phone out the window when another call came in. He felt slightly guilty when he saw the caller-id.

"Do you hate me?" screamed the crying voice of his brother on the other end of the phone. "France told Canada, and Canada told America, and America told England, and England-"

Romano cut his brother off. "What the hell are you talking about, Veneziano?"

On the other end of the phone Italy sniffed. "You didn't tell me that you were dating Belgium! Are we not open with each other anymore? I thought we could tell each other anything! But, apparently we can't because I had to hear that you were dating Belgium from the mailman! And mailman heard it from his hairdresser, who heard it from-"

"Slow down!" Romano complained. "I just woke up, you're speaking way to fast for me."

"I should have been one of the first to know! Not the last!" Italy cried. "Do you not love me anymore? What did I do to offend you? Was it because I left my shoes-"

"Shut Up!" Romano yelled. "I already have trouble focusing in the morning, and your whining isn't helping me."

"I did do something wrong! It's my whining! I've whined so much that you don't want to tell me anything anymore!" Italy sniffed. "I'm so sorry Romano! I'll try to make it better. I'll make you pasta-"

Romano cut his whining brother off again. "I'm not mad at you, and you don't need to make me pasta."

Italy didn't listen. "I'm so sorry-"

Romano hung up before his brother could finish. So France told Canada, who told America, who told England, who told somebody Romano didn't hear the name of, because he cut Italy off. And eventually this story of him being dateable was told to some hairdresser who told some mailman that told Italy.

How did this story spread so quickly? And how did the news end up told to random citizens, like a hairdresser and mailman? It was only around nine o'clock in the morning. Didn't these people have lives?

Romano sighed. Unable to come up with a suitable answer, he turned his phone off. He was done talking with people for today.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Poor Italy. **

**Anybody know why everybody was up that early? **

**Belle fille – Beautiful girl **

**Felicitations – congratulations **

**If these translations are incorrect please tell me. I took Spanish, so I don't really know any French.**

**Oh, funny story. The other day my cousin, Ellie, got a text message that said, "Happy Birthday, Jordan. From everybody here at the office." So, instead of just not responding or telling this person that they have the wrong number she texts back, "Party at my place at 7! Spread the word!" I feel sorry for this random Jordan person. **


	4. Right Before The Second Date

"At the tone please record your message. When you've finished recording you may hang up or press-"

Belgium hung up before the voice mail had a chance to finish. She had already left two voice messages, sent three text messages, and sent one email to Romano. She made sure that her attempts didn't go into too much detail, just incase the idiot was stupid enough to listen to his voicemail on speaker allowing the Spaniard to eavesdrop, or just incase the idiot was stupid enough to read the texts and emails out loud allowing the Spaniard to listen, or just incase the Spaniard liked to read his messages. Unfortunately, the idiot hadn't responded to any of her attempts to make contact.

She really needed to sort things out with him. Make sure that they were both sticking to the same story, and give a small apology for throwing him into this plan before fully explaining it to him. She would have done this yesterday, when he called last night, but she wasn't feeling in the right frame of mind to talk to him, and Netherlands was sort of sitting next to her at the time. She really needs to have the conversation Romano wanted to have yesterday. But this conversation couldn't be done, because the idiot had turned his phone off.

Slightly frustrated the Belgian threw her phone aside, and went to her closet. She needed to pick out a suitable outfit for her fake one-week anniversary date with the idiot. Something to make it look like she and Romano were in the honeymoon state and just so happy to be together. But something that also was comfortable to dance in, and didn't make her fake Italian boyfriend get too tongue-tied.

"Ugh," she mumbled frowning at her clothes. Why did she just consider her fake boyfriend getting tongue-tied? He doesn't have feelings for her.

Okay, maybe she's just over thinking all this. Romano was no different from any other guy. He might get tongue-tied if she dresses pretty, but that doesn't mean that he has feelings for her. Her outfit for this occasion could just needs to be suitable, and not too over the top.

Belgium randomly pulled out a dress from her rack. "Wrong century," she said sighing, and putting the dress back. Why was that dress even in her closet?

Her phone went off before she could come up with a reason. She picked it up from her bed hoping that Romano was finally calling her back. Unfortunately, the caller-id didn't display Romano's name like she wanted.

The Belgian sighed, and put her phone up to her ear anyway. "Hello?"

"Hey, waffle chick," said a very enthusiastic American, "I already asked tomato dude this, but the movie I watched last night is making me a little paranoid. Your relationship with tomato dude isn't some cover story for a mastermind plan to nuke me, right?"

Belgium laughed. Typical America thinking everything is a cover story for people planning to bomb him. "No, of course not. We would never think of plotting something against you."

"Okay, cool. That's really good to know. Sorry, that I bothered you. I thought Romano just might have been a little pissed when I told him that ketchup was the equivalent of a tomato," the American said. After he said this, he hung up.

Well, that was sort of weird. What movie did America watch last night? When did America call Romano? And how did he find out about them dating? Was Romano telling everybody that he finally kissed a girl or something?

"Merde," the Belgian mumbled to herself walking back to her closet. Why was she thinking that she gave the Italian his first kiss again? She wasn't his first kiss. If she were, then she would be a really terrible person. And she wasn't a terrible person.

Before she could think anything else along these lines, her phone went off again.

"Hey, Belgium, I was just informed that if you and Romano were planning something against me, you wouldn't have told me," America said before Belgium had the chance to say hello.

"We're not planning anything against you," the Belgian ensured sighing.

"Hear that! Waffle chick says that they ain't going to bomb me! See I told you that he wasn't offended when I compared ketchup to a tomato!" the America yelled to somebody in the same room as him. "Okay, thanks, Belgium," he said into the phone, before hanging up.

Well, that was weirder then the first time he called. Belgium shook her head. Was nuking America really that easy? Seriously was he really that stupid? Calling somebody to ask if they were secretly planning to nuke you, then calling them back when you realize that if they were planning to nuke you they would have lied, then accepting the first thing they said as a answer. Wow, just wow. How is he so successful as a country?

Unable to come up with a suitable answer to that question, she grabbed two dresses from her closet at random. Preparing for her date was more important at the moment. And if she couldn't pick out a dress herself, then why not give her brother the impression that she was extremely excited for her date, and wanted her brother's manly advice on choosing an outfit?

* * *

><p>"Hey, Netherlands," Belgium said as she entered the kitchen. "Oh hello, Germany. My brother didn't tell me that you were visiting." She blushed and wished that she didn't come downstairs in her bathrobe.<p>

"Germany and I were just discussing about your car. He just finished inspecting it," Netherlands informed. "What you got there?" he asked eyeing the two outfits she was holding.

"Oh, I just needed your manly advice on what to wear for my big date tonight," the Belgian said giggling. "But, I would like to hear about my car first."

Germany sighed. "Well, it didn't look good. I've never seen a car destroyed like that before."

"That doesn't sound good," Belgium stated, sounding worried, as she set her clothes down on the counter. "Is my car fixable?"

The German looked down at his fingers. "I could work with it, but I can't guarantee that it will run again."

"Well, that's tragic," the Belgian stated frowning. "How rude of my brother, he didn't offer you a drink yet." She went to the refrigerator.

"I just about to offer him one," the Dutchman said as his sister opened the fridge.

"Sure, you were." Belgium took a beer out of the fridge. "I'm assuming that you would like a beer."

Germany smiled. "That would nice."

"Netherlands would you like a drink as well?" the Belgian asked handing the German his beer.

"Just water," Netherlands answered. "If I'm driving you to your date tonight. I shouldn't be drinking and driving."

Belgium laughed then tossed him a water bottle. "Speaking of my date, what dress should I wear?" She picked up the two dresses she set aside previously. "The blue one is shorter, but the green one is cut lower."

The Dutchman frowned. "So, I have a choice between you showing too much leg, or you showing too much chest?"

"Pretty much." The Belgian giggled. "So, which one? The blue expose more leg one, or the green expose more chest one?"

"Don't you have anything else?"

"I do, but they're the wrong century, the wrong season, or I just don't want to wear it. So, blue or green?"

Netherlands sighed. "Blue."

"Really? I was leaning more towards the green dress." Belgium turned to the guest. "Germany, what do you think? Blue dress or green dress?" She held up each dress as she said its description.

The German set down his beer. "I like the blue one."

"Ugh! You guys don't understand anything about fashion!" Belgium snapped her hands down to her sides. "I'm going to wear the green one." After saying this she left the kitchen.

"I'm confused," Germany said once she was gone. "If she was just going to wear the green one, then why did she bother asking us?"

The Dutchman laughed. "She would have worn the blue one if we said that we preferred the green one."

"I don't get it."

"It's just my sister being a girl. If you had sisters you would understand." Netherlands stood up, and tossed his finished water bottle into the trash. "Anyway, about my sister's car, could it be possible for you to work on it tomorrow?"

"What time?" The German picked his beer back up.

"Same time you looked at it today?"

Germany took a sip of his beer, and set it back down on the table. "Yeah, I'm free then. Prussia might be a little upset that he'll have to make dinner again."

"Oh, was I inferring with your daily schedule?"

The German sighed. "No. Prussia was just a little mad that he had to make dinner for our dinner could be served at the proper time."

"Oh, sorry that you had to put up with his crap." The Dutchman sat back down. "I could take you and Prussia out to dinner tomorrow, like after you're done working with Belgium's car. That way you don't have to listen to any of his complains again tomorrow. Right after you're done working, we can all go out for dinner together. I'll even pay for your meals. That includes all the stuff your brother decides to shove down his mouth in one sitting."

Germany picked up his beer again. "That's really nice of you. I'll see what Prussia thinks of this idea before I give a answer."

"Neat," Netherlands said. "Oh, and about those security cameras you were telling me about?"

Before the German could say anything the Belgian returned to the kitchen.

"I decided to wear my yellow dress." Belgium spun around to letting her dress flow around her. "What do you think?"

"It's backless," the Dutchman stated observing her outfit.

The Belgian giggled. "That's why I picked it, silly."

"You're going to wear a coat over it, right?" It sounded more like an order than a question.

"Golly, Netherlands, let a girl show some skin." Belgium twirled around again just like she did earlier.

Netherlands rolled his eyes. "What kind of brother would I be if I let my sister freeze to death?"

"Ah, come on, its not even cold outside."

"It could get colder."

"If it gets colder, my honeybun would just give me his coat. Keeping me from freezing to death."

"What if he doesn't wear a coat?"

"Why wouldn't he wear a coat?"

"I don't know, maybe he's wearing something backless too."

"That's ridiculous."

"Well, are you prepared for the temperature dropping, and your honeybun not wearing a coat?"

"If that happens, we'll cuddle."

"You're wearing a coat."

"Ugh!" The Belgian turned to the German. "Germany, what's your opinion on this issue?"

Germany sighed and set down his beer, he was drinking during this whole sibling argument. "That's a really nice dress."

* * *

><p>Romano was struggling with his bowtie, like a teenager trying to untangle their headphones. Whoever made this stupid ribbon so complicated should be shot. Seriously, the Italian's been struggling with this stupid bowtie for the past thirty minutes. (The actual amount of time is much longer, but stating the correct amount would be an embarrassment to Romano. And he's been embarrassed enough already.)<p>

During this hard task of putting a stupid ribbon into place, Romano began thinking of what he would do if he ever met the inventor of the bowtie. The thought of telling that bastard, "I'm going to shove a pair of tennis shoes so far up your ass, that when you open your mouth you'll be able to tie the laces", came to his mind multiple times. So did the thought of just classically kicking that jerk in the vital regions.

As fun as it was for the Italian to think of tormenting some random person that was probably already dead, he wasn't getting anywhere in putting his bowtie correctly in place. Why was it so hard? Maybe he should just ask Spain to do it for him.

No. Why did that thought occur to him? He doesn't need the Spaniard's help. If he asked Spain to do it for him, then he'll just have to listen to all his romantic advice again. He's an Italian he doesn't need romantic advice from a Spaniard.

"Stupid thing," Romano mumbled to himself trying to put the stupid ribbon in place again.

Maybe he shouldn't wear a bowtie. It's already caused he enough trouble. Its not like anybody will notice if he doesn't wear a bowtie.

The Italian sighed. Well, not dressing the part would be a disappointment to his temptress. Belgium would want him to dress the part. She would most definitely notice if he didn't wear something formal like a bowtie.

Romano gave the bowtie one more chance to go into place, and unsurprisingly it didn't. "Unfair," he mumbled. Off to Spain he goes.

* * *

><p>Spain was enjoying himself. Watching reruns of 'Escenas de matrimonio'was certainly something a Spaniard could take pleasure in. Just when the when the show was going to play another comedic sketch, Romano walked in.<p>

"Spain, you bastard, you should have realized something was wrong when I never came back from the restroom." The Italian obviously wasn't in the best mood.

"Yeah, I guess that it is a bit unusual for you to go to the bathroom for a suspiciously long amount time. Since now that you have a girlfriend." Spain laughed, and then continued before Romano could realize what he meant. "Did the shower curtain fall off or something?" He noticed the bowtie around his neck. "Oh, you need help tying your bowtie."

The Italian groaned. "Obviously."

The Spaniard got out of his chair and walked to the Italian. "You know that I tied your bowtie for that Christmas party that made you accidently kiss your brother."

Romano swatted away Spain's hands before he could finish typing his bowtie. "Ugh, don't remind me!" He pulled the somewhat bowtie off his neck, and threw it on the ground.

"So, you're not going to wear a bowtie?" The Spaniard sighed at the bowtie lying on the floor.

"No," the Italian answered, "last time I wore one I ended up kissing my brother."

Spain smile. "Kissing isn't bad luck."

"It is if it's your brother." Romano sat down on one of the living room chairs.

"I'm sure plenty of people would have wanted to take your place at that moment," the Spaniard said chuckling.

"Who would want that kind of misfortune?" the Italian asked. "France?"

This made Spain laugh harder. "Not the first person I was thinking of, but yeah, him too," he managed to say between laughs.

"Who were you thinking of?" Romano raised an eyebrow. "Or do I want to know?"

The Spaniard had his hands over his stomach from laughing. "No," he managed to say. "But, I was thinking of-"

The Italian cut him off, noticing the wall clock. "Shit! We should have been paying attention to the time!" He stood up from his chair.

Spain laughed as they left the living room. "You know, not wearing your bowtie might keep you from getting a kiss from Belgium."

Romano blushed from anger and embarrassment. "You need to stop laughing so hard, and that makes no sense."

"Yes, it does. 'Cause ever girl's crazy about a sharp dressed man!" The way Spaniard said this was between slightly singing it, and slightly crackling it out.

The Italian wanted to punch the Spaniard. Maybe watching all those comedy reruns put Spain in a loony mood. Whatever, the reason it was seriously annoying Romano. He really wanted to punch him. But, punching him would keep him from driving, and that would stop not fake one-week anniversary date from happening, with wouldn't be sticking with the plan. And his temptress would be really angry if he didn't stick with the plan.

Hopefully, he'll get a kiss out of this fake anniversary date. A romantic kiss from Belgium that would last longer than the one she gave him yesterday, not some disgusting unfortunate kiss that would come from his brother.


End file.
